


This Is Our Last Dance

by catchafallingstarfish (spaceboy_niko)



Series: under pressure [4]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Escorts, Developing Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Vignette, Well - Freeform, aka: relationship problems and how to sort-of-not-really fix them, bc i like doing those apparently, ex-escorts now, excorts?, idk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 15:14:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13977816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceboy_niko/pseuds/catchafallingstarfish
Summary: Ryan thinks they both have what they want. Gavin's doing his best.Inspired by 'Under Pressure' by Queen & David Bowie.





	This Is Our Last Dance

**Author's Note:**

> I FINALLY FINISHED IT ARE YOU PROUD OF ME
> 
> i think i'm going to miss this one a little, but it's also the first long-ish thing i've finished in a while
> 
> special thanks to gabe for reading over this while i bashed it out in three days <3

Ryan didn’t notice when Gavin started spending less time at his own apartment and more time lounging around on Ryan’s couch until the day he rolled over onto his back to look up at Ryan and announced, “I’m terminating the lease on my apartment. Three months, and then it’s back on the market.”

“Alright,” Ryan murmured, and then the gravity of the statement hit him. “Wait, what?”

“Uh-huh. What, you haven’t noticed I basically live here now?”

“Should’ve started charging you rent,” Ryan said wondrously. “You’ve been…taking care of business?”

Gavin nodded. “Only a couple left who can’t seem to shake the idea that I’m still up for grabs.” He made a face, and Ryan winced.

“I feel kind of bad that I’ve stolen you from them,” he said in a way that didn’t sound like he felt bad at all, and leaned down and pressed a kiss to Gavin’s forehead.

“So you’ll be coming here, then?”

Gavin nodded again.

“Should’ve been charging you rent all this time,” Ryan laughed.

Gavin leaned up and kissed him. “That’s this month’s rent.”

* * *

Gavin slammed the front door behind himself with a force that could bring down the apartment block.

“Rough day?” Ryan asked cheerfully, then sobered as he saw Gavin’s face.

“Y’know, there’s some people who just refuse to accept the fact that I’m trying to move on from this point in life!” he seethed, throwing himself onto the couch again. “Like, they should know I can’t do this forever! Don’t they know that I’ve got damn feelings and dreams? Or does being a whore just–” He waved his hands around in anger, searching for the words, before letting them fall over his face and making a noise of frustration.

“Filthy handed bastard,” he sighed, and rolled over onto his side. Ryan carefully sat down at his head, and Gavin wriggled up to rest his face in Ryan’s lap.

“I want out, Rye.”

“I know,” Ryan replied in what he hoped was a soothing tone, running a hand through Gavin’s hair.

“I don’t like the world anymore, Rye.”

“Yeah, you do. You just don’t like that little part of it right now. And you know what? I’ll still be here for you, and I’ll help you make sure that tomorrow’s a little better.”

Gavin pressed his face into Ryan’s leg, and Ryan sat still and let him.

* * *

“So, what you’re telling me is you made a living sucking dick but you can’t swallow a couple aspirin?”

Gavin socked Ryan in the leg from his place on the bathroom floor. “Shut up.”

“Do we seriously need to keep liquid paracetamol around here?” Ryan teased.

The look he received from Gavin made him stop talking very quickly.

“I’ll leave you in here to pick your brains up off the floor, then. Let me know if you need a coffee or anything.”

“Black, two sugars,” Gavin mumbled sulkily, and examined the box again as Ryan closed the door.

* * *

The lift dinged again and Gavin hefted the last box up and out, across the hall, almost jogging through Ryan’s doorway before half-dropping it with a thud.

“Y’know, you’re meant to pop a bottle of champagne when you move into a new house,” Gavin grinned.

“Be my guest.” Ryan gestured towards the fridge, where the last of Gavin’s Möet was chilling. “Grab me a Coke while you’re at it?”

Gavin tapped the neck of the bottle against the can with a “Clink!” and opened the bottle, squawking as it fizzed up and he dashed to the sink.

Ryan tried not to choke on his Coke as he laughed.

“Stop it!” Gavin half-yelled, but there was still a smile on his face.

Once the bubbles finally died down, Gavin poured himself a glass and sat down across from Ryan, twisting their hands together contentedly.

Ryan wished Gavin would always be this happy.

* * *

Cardboard boxes still littered their floor when Gavin’s phone rang with a chime Ryan didn’t recognise.

“Change your ringtone?” he asked distractedly from his novel.

“No, that’s…” Gavin seemed stunned as well. “That was my business ringtone.”

Ryan looked up sharply in confusion as Gavin picked it up and answered the call.

“Hello? Oh, hello,” he began brightly, walking out of the room.

Ryan only caught snippets of the conversation from there, Gavin’s voice light and impersonal from down the hall.

“No, I’m going to have to ask you to stop calling this number. I’ve informed you of the change, and if you can’t remove your head from your arse for long enough to realise that I’m not what was going to help you save your failing marriage, then you may need to seek medical attention and couple’s therapy. Have a lovely day!” Gavin hung up and tossed his phone carelessly onto the couch. “Bastard. Thinks he can just barge right in and ruin the perfect little fucking life I’m working on.”

Gavin kept muttering to himself as he walked past, and Ryan sank further into the couch. The black cloud above his head followed Gavin into the kitchen and manifested in the form of something falling into the sink and a loudly yelled “Fuck!”

Ryan winced.

“Ryan, I’m gonna become a famous director and make a movie about people who are arseholes to prostitutes, and I’m going to invite him to the premiere!” Gavin called from the kitchen.

“Let me know if you need an actor,” Ryan called back.

* * *

“Hey, Gav?” Ryan asked quietly from his side of the bed.

“Yeah, Rye?”

Ryan hesitated. “Was I ever a dick to you? I mean, like– you know–“

“No, no, I get it.” Gavin thought in the dark. “No. No you weren’t. Because you didn’t know what you were doing.”

“Wha– people who– why were they like that?”

Gavin rolled over so his nose was nearly touching Ryan’s. “Is now really the time for psychoanalysing old men who treat prostitutes like _things_?”

“I don’t know, I can’t sleep.”

Silence from Gavin. “Me neither.”

“I guess there’s just more people in the world who’d rather take out their issues on someone else.”

Gavin laughed, quietly but bitterly. “That’s showbiz, baby.” He bumped his nose gently into Ryan’s and rolled over onto his back.

“Hey, Rye?”

“Yeah, Gav?”

“What would you do if you won the lottery?”

“Take you out for dinner again,” Ryan replied promptly, making Gavin laugh.

“I would,” he began, “find a bunch of my old friends still in the business, and give them some money, and get them out of there. They’re not all going to be lucky as me. They’re still out there, looking for their luck on street corners.”

“Did it hurt? Just…turning away from it all like that?”

“Oh, yeah,” Gavin replied easily. “But I was either in or I was out, you know?”

Ryan nodded sympathetically, and Gavin rolled over onto his side.

Ryan lay there until he heard Gavin’s breathing even out.

* * *

“Movie night, Rye? How does Heathers sound?”

“Sure. I remember when that came out. Got to meet Winona Ryder and everything.”

“Wow, you’re old,” Gavin said, and squawked when Ryan dug his fingers into Gavin’s side, taking the both of them down laughing.

“I’m only old when you do that,” he winced, trying to get his breath back. “Sometimes I wonder why I keep you around.”

“Do you really?” Gavin asked, suddenly serious.

“Only when you do that!”

“Cut the shit, Rye. Do you really?”

“What? Gavin, why would I ever question this? Everything’s going so well, right?” He paused, suddenly feeling like he’d said something wrong. “Right?”

“So it’s…love?”

“…Yeah. Yeah, that’s a good word for it.”

“Okay.”

They were almost settled when Gavin started to laugh. “We’re such a mess, Ryan. How do you do this?”

Ryan shrugged. “Keep giving you chances. Haven’t regretted any of them.”

* * *

Gavin took a deep breath. “Rye, how do I look?”

“Like you’ve walked off the set of an English documentary.”

“Good,” he grinned, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Y’know, I haven’t had a first day of school in seven years. Forgot how nerve-wracking it was.”

“You’ll be fine. Everyone there’s gonna be in the same boat as you. And you can drop it again if you want.” Ryan shrugged. “Do what’ll make you happy. Have a good day.” He paused. “Love you.”

“Now, that’s a bit old-fashioned, Rye.” Gavin bounced up to kiss Ryan on the cheek. “I, however, am besotted with you. I adore you. I cherish you. I–“

“Oh, you’re incorrigible. Now go on, you’re going to be late. Not a good impression for the first day. Take care of yourself.”

“Will do. And Rye?”

“Hm?”

“Love you too.”

Ryan grinned uncontrollably as Gavin shut the door behind him.

* * *

The snap of a camera jerked Ryan out of his coffee-and-kitchen-window reverie, and he spun round to see Gavin standing just behind him, wrapped in the blanket off their bed, tapping his fingers on a Polaroid camera as he waited for it to print.

“What are you doing?” Ryan asked cautiously.

“Photography project,” Gavin replied easily, shaking the Polaroid and examining it. “Bollocks, that was a bad one,” he said, screwing up his face and letting the blanket fall. “Mind if I try again?”

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “How many–“ he began, but he was cut off by the click of Gavin’s camera again.

“Don’t know yet. A lot, so I can find the good ones. Oh, that’s better,” he continued appreciatively.

“Can I see?” Ryan put down his coffee mug and tried to lean over Gavin to see the photo, but Gavin held it close to his chest.

“Nope. Not yet. I’ll show you when it’s done.”

Ryan pouted and pressed in closer to Gavin. “Please?” he murmured, sliding his hands down Gavin’s sides to his hips and rubbing his thumbs in smooth circles against Gavin’s hipbones.

“Not only are you an excellent subject, but you’re also a filthy tempting bastard. No, don't– mmph, fine," he sighed as Ryan kissed a line down his neck, past his chest and sank to his knees on the kitchen floor.

* * *

The coffee machine began its whirring and hissing, a series of noises that never failed to slightly scare Ryan, and begrudgingly dispensed two cups of coffee – one an almost-opaque black, one topped off with a thick enough layer of frothy milk to support the weight of a teaspoon.

(Ryan had tested this hypothesis many a time, much to Gavin’s mild alarm.)

He heard the key turning in the lock as he was putting the milk back into the fridge, and Gavin waltzed in.

“This semester is awful. I could not care less about the invention of the automatic shutter,” he announced, sweeping into the kitchen and pressing a kiss to Ryan’s cheek. “Afternoon, love.”

“Afternoon, darling. Made you a coffee. Any word on the photography project yet?”

Gavin had spent the better part of three months taking more photos of Ryan – some staged, many clandestine – as he opened their bedroom curtains, brushed his hair in the morning, cooked for them both, fell asleep on the couch after watching one too many Game of Thrones episodes. He’d used all sorts of cameras, from an old film one to the one on his phone and even a camera with the most intimidating lens Ryan had ever seen, to create a portfolio of pictures in a staggering range of tones and qualities. He’d only shown Ryan a few of the photos, a few overexposed film negatives and some dodgy Polaroids, and smuggled it out in a massive brown package on the morning it was due.

Gavin hummed as he took a sip of coffee. “It’ll be back by the end of the week, and then I’ll let you look at it.”

In truth, he’d gotten it back that morning. His professor had handed back the rubric, and quietly asked to speak to him after the lecture.

“Gavin, this is superb work,” the professor had commented, flipping through the portfolio with the rubric and notes folded neatly and placed in the inside front cover. “Your composition is impeccable, despite the majority of these being clandestine shots –they are clandestine, right?”

Gavin nodded.

“Your subject, too – he looks striking in any lighting, and I’m not sure whether to praise your abilities or the almost natural way he seems to fit the camera. These are almost journalistic. I feel like I’m invading your privacy by looking at these,” he laughed.

“Don’t worry, you’re not invading anything,” Gavin hastily reassured.

“The one thing I’m curious about, if you don’t mind me asking, is just who your subject is. He’s obviously very dear to you, if the care you’ve taken in photographing him is any indication. A relative?” The professor smiled gently.

“Uh– no, quite the opposite, in fact,” Gavin stammered. “He’s an out-of-work actor who I met through…my last job, and we’re almost at our six month anniversary now. I know, I know it looks dodgy, the age gap’s pretty damn obvious, but I swear, we’re fine,” he blathered, and the professor chuckled.

“Relax, Gavin, I’m not about to condemn your relationship – especially not when it produces work like this. What I called you in here to ask is if the college could display some of these in the semester exhibition.”

Gavin fumbled uncomfortably again. “Well, I, uh. I had plans to give this to Ryan for our anniversary and I’m not really too keen to part with it…” He trailed off, unsure whether he’d let his professor down.

The professor waved a hand airily. “We don’t have to use the originals. In fact, it’d be better if we didn’t use the originals, because then we could resize them for the display. Do you have digitised versions of these ones?”

Gavin had felt a wave of internal relief wash over him, and he bent over his portfolio to examine it again.

Now, the portfolio was in his satchel, bound in black leather, and the eight finest photos had been hung up in the exhibition hall before he’d left that day.

The exhibit would still be on when their anniversary rolled around in three days. That’d be a nice date, Gavin mused as he took another drink and settled down next to Ryan on the couch, mug warming his hands as he snuggled into Ryan’s side.

**Author's Note:**

> much love to everyone who read this series!
> 
> if you liked it, come find me on tumblr - i'm @catchafallingstarfish for rt-related shenanigans and @spaceboy-niko for everything else


End file.
